


The Mystery, Misfortunes, and sometimes Maladies Management Company (MMsMMC)

by antidons (Pogniscrow)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Absurdist undertones, Additional Pairing To Be Added, Dark Comedy, Dreamies Sleuths, Inspired By A Series of Unfortunate Events, M/M, Mystery, sad attempts at being funny, the pairings comes much later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 07:04:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19127035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pogniscrow/pseuds/antidons
Summary: Where things begin, that’s interesting. Not the start of becoming doctors, lawyers, or the greatest evil network of producers, no. Those things don’t mean anything to our muddled tale. The beginnings we want are of action movies on lazy Sunday afternoons, a ballet recital followed by a rugby match, a one-man play of Romeo and Juliet and the traumatizing death of a loved one in a dingy alleyway with the pulsating fear of death and the smell of strawberry-flavored Greek yogurt implanted tenderly in your mind.But those beginnings we can discuss another time. Today we begin at the beginning of the beginning, where pubescent angst and the image of blood-soaked clothes riddle our young protagonists’ minds. Where the cogs of an odd and morose misadventure start to creak, and where things, the important things, inadvertently begin.





	The Mystery, Misfortunes, and sometimes Maladies Management Company (MMsMMC)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story I wished to write around two years ago with friends for a different people in a wholly different time. To Adi, Sam, Alex, and (sometimes) Mel who embedded the idea of a group of young sleuths in my head, I hope you can read this and not despise me too much.

_Where things begin, that’s interesting. Not the start of becoming doctors, lawyers, or the greatest evil network of producers, no. Those things don’t mean anything to our muddled tale. The beginnings we want are of action movies on lazy Sunday afternoons, a ballet recital followed by a rugby match, a one-man play of Romeo and Juliet and the traumatizing death of a loved one in a dingy alleyway with the pulsating fear of death and the smell of strawberry-flavored Greek yogurt implanted tenderly in your mind._

_But those beginnings we can discuss another time. Today we begin at the beginning of the beginning, where pubescent angst and the image of blood-soaked clothes riddle our young protagonists’ minds. Where the cogs of an odd and morose misadventure start to creak, and where things, the important things, inadvertently begin._

We begin with a boy named Park Jisung on a ripe spring morning. The shades of his windows are drawn closed, and his door is bolt shut, and by bolt shut, we mean equipped with two deadbolts he’s installed himself--the reason for which we shall unveil at a different time. He’s created his own little pocket of silence in the bustling city of Seoul that seeks to uninvite the general populace around him. However, the person outside his heavily armored door was not by any means ‘normal’ or ascribed to the term, ‘general.’ Huang Renjun was an anomaly, or that is to say a special kind of person, a needle in a haystack, an odd in a world of evens. And as of the moment, the mechanisms that Jisung had placed to steer away unwanted attention at 6 AM in the morning only served as a perfect invitation for Renjun’s daily dose of rude awakenings.

“Park Jisung open this door, adventure awaits us,” comes the voice from the other side of the door.

“Adventure can wait till after lunch when my parents come back.”

He lays back on the couch and turns the volume to full blast, attempting to drown out the insistent voice of the boy behind the door. The boy behind the door being his best, and only, friend. If Jisung were to describe Huang Renjun with one word, he would tell you that he could not describe Huang Renjun with one word, because someone as odd as Huang Renjun could not be surmised in one word. That description is apt for someone like his math teacher Mr Lee whom he would call “smarmy,” or maybe his neighbour who lives two doors down, whom he would refer to as “scary.” However, Renjun? No amount of words could properly describe him.

And to make sense of how not one word or twenty could aptly describe his dear friend, there stands unblocked by two deadbolts is Huang Renjun with a ring of keys that Jisung will not question, because questioning something as utterly incomprehensible as Huang Renjun would only lead to an infinite stream of questions Jisung has no patience to go through.

He wears a trenchcoat too big for him and a beret that falls slightly to the right of his head. These are Mr Huang’s clothes, or they were his clothes. Ownership had been passed on to Renjun, but the essence remains of his friend’s father. Said friend only wears it when he’s out investigating, which means bad news for Jisung would comply with readily if it were any other day, but an ungodly mewling the night before care of an animal from one of the adjoining apartments has left Jisung mildly miffed.

Renjun crosses the threshold and perches himself on the arm of the couch watching Jisung ignore him for a full minute.

“Mom left cupcakes,” Jisung says, eyes never leaving “How Things Work.” Today they were making Doritos.

“You should remind your mother to use more dour colors,” Renjun says catching a glimpse of the plate of chocolate cupcakes with pastel pink swirls of icing crowning its top, “she might be mistaken as deceptive.”

“As father always used to tell me, ‘the dainty and dandy always divisively deceive.’”

Now, this is no conventional, regular saying that parents told their children. In every sense, this was ‘unconventional.’ Fathers never had strong commentary on the misgivings of a plate of confectionary dusted with edible glitter. They talked about being upright, being helpful and being a gentleman. No conventional parental figure suggests the seeming duplicity of pastel pink and the dastardly plots that come with it. But Mr Huang did, and for a good reason. For in this world filled with good things and bad things, it pays to remain vigilant against the daring folk who aim to bring upon the downfall of the decent society. As the conventional saying goes, “every sweet has its sour” and its less conventional and widely unused partner says, “every sour has its sweet.” Some things really aren’t what they seem.

“The cupcakes aren’t laced with poison,” Jisung responds, all too familiar with his friend’s aberrant aversion.

Renjun jolts at the certainty and walks over to survey the plate. Dark chocolate cake batter puffed to perfection in pink paper cups colored festive aquamarine. His father disliked sweets like this, decadent treats. He liked duller desserts like oatmeal with honey or dark chocolate muffins. But that was then when Renjun’s father could still eat; when he could still berate unassuming batches of pastries about their hidden motives when he could still so clearly tell Renjun what was right and wrong. But today is not then, today is now, and now Renjun is faced with a plate full of dandy cupcakes without a father to him if they were safe to eat.

“I’ll hold judgement for now, but these cupcakes stand guilty until proven innocent.”

“Pretty sure that’s the other way around, but whatever makes you happy, I guess.”

Renjun sits by Jisung once more and prods him on the shoulder, “Adventure. Now.”

“Renjun, I’m in the middle of something.”

“We have a mystery on our hands, you should be jumping for joy.”

Jisung, still preoccupied with the scenes on the television shrugs, “Doing nothing sounds more exciting to me.”

Renjun, “Fine, I’ll just go on an exciting adventure all by myself then. Don’t come chasing after me if I run into trouble.”

Jisung remains unmoving.

Renjun gingerly steps away, deliberately making his steps loud as he ventures out of the apartment.

“I guess if I get poisoned, you can tell dear mother that I went out doing the thing I love.”

The door closes, and Jisung waits five minutes before he reluctantly follows his not conventional friend. Ensuring to lock the doors of the apartment and taking a cupcake for Renjun, frosting and paper cup disposed of.

__

The adventure Renjun had promised begins with one Ms Kwon Chanhee an old woman who lives alone in an apartment with a cat, or, more accurately, she used to live in an apartment with a cat. There no longer is a cat, but there still is an apartment and a Ms Kwon.

The woman in question sits in front of them with an oversized cardigan that reaches her ankles, pentagonal glasses with bronze frames and frumpy dress that bulges in very odd places.

“CJ Beat always knew how to get home. She always found a way.”  

They’re sitting on Ms Kwon’s badly upholstered couch in a neat living room with the faint aroma of bleach and what Jisung wants to describe as ‘old.’ Of course, what Jisung says is old, might mean something along the lines of ‘musty’ or ‘stale’ or even ‘drab.’ The same can be said about the little plate of cookies that Ms Kwon has prepared for them on their visit. Simple sugar cookies fashioned into what seems to be animals. One morose figure Jisung assumes is a dog, another sprinkled clumsily with edible glitter might just be a fish or a centipede, he’s not quite sure.

The armchair that Ms Kwon is seated on is finished with old, tacky floral finish with frayed ends that streak in sad, torn threads as if clawed. Ms Kwon is by no means notable. She melds into her mundane furniture with her mundane colors and mundane cookies. If not for her noticeably frayed strands of hair, Jisung assumes Ms Kwon would look like a floating head drowning in a deviously dour decor.

“If I may, perhaps, intrude upon your story,” Renjun says before Ms Kwon can utter another word, “but am I correct in assuming that CJ Beat is indeed the name of your cat and not a jug of laundry detergent you’ve grown emotional attachment for?”

Ms Kwon smiles fondly at the question, her dark brown flyaway hair and crooked bangs seemingly bestowing a look of quiet insanity.

“Yes, her name is CJ Beat, I found him when she was a kitten drinking from my cap of CJ Beat, so in memory of our first meeting, I named her so.”

Renjun listens diligently and jots down the information on his notepad with extreme enthusiasm. Jisung is staring confusedly at the woman mentally trying to figure out if he’s supposed to be as unfazed at Renjun at finding out that this lady named her cat after detergent.

“Aren’t cats smart?” Jisung interrupts.

Ms Kwon looks at him, quizzically, “Are they? CJ Beat never struck me as particularly intelligent.”

Renjun side-eyes Jisung before resuming asking catless Ms Kwon questions, “You’ve never taken care of a pet before CJ Beat?”

“Oh heavens no, CJ Beat was only but an accident. A fruitful accident, but an accident nonetheless.”

“You gave birth to a cat?”

Renjun quietly steps on Jisung’s foot.

The old woman shakes her head, “I will not claim to be a noble person. I’ve never had an affinity for animals, especially cats. They’ve always seemed so conniving, and they only clean themselves with their tongue, that just seems unsanitary--dastardly even. However, CJ Beat is nothing of that sort. She is gentle, courteous and like laundry detergent very much. She is always uncharacteristically cleaner than most felines I’ve encountered.”

“That’s a mighty weird cat,” Jisung says somewhat unintentionally if by the way, he covers his mouth as soon utters the words is any indication.

Ms Kwon, still unfazed, nods solemnly, “He was a very odd cat, but I do miss him so,” she says before she reaching into one of the many big pockets of her oversized wool cardigan, “here, this is my last picture of him.” She shows them a picture of a Siamese cat with a very distinct lack of tail whom they assume is the missing feline.

“CJ Beat doesn’t have a tail?”

Ms Kwon nods, “Is that important information?”

Jisung looks to Renjun, who in turn directs a nod towards Ms Kwon, “Very important.”

“I was not aware, but yes CJ beat seemed to have parted with his tail sometime before finding his way into my CJ Beat detergent. I didn’t think it was a particularly important feature, I just assumed all cats were like that.”

Jisung covers his mouth before any other word comes out.

“Can we keep this for now?” Renjun asks, “so that we can more easily find her. I’ll be sure to return it after.”

Ms Kwon shakes her head, “Please take it, I have more pictures if you require them.”

She reaches into her oversized cardigan once more and procures a ream of pictures, all of CJ Beat, bundled with a flimsy rubber band. One is of her eating fishbones, another is of her playing with a ball of yarn, and another one is of her bundled in a blanket with a bottle of CJ Beat right beside her.

Renjun browses through these and collects five before handing the rest back to Ms Kwon, “Thank you, now can you tell us when you last saw CJ Beat?”

Ms Kwon sits back into her armchair and brings her hands to her chest, “It was like any other day, we were sitting here when she wanted to go out. I didn’t understand what was happening, so I obliged. She’d normally go on her little strolls and come back by sundown, but she just didn’t.”

Renjun nods, “And where does CJ Beat usually frequent on her walks?”

Ms Kwon pauses for a moment, “She likes passing by the cat park, sometimes the flower shop, but nothing else of note.”

Renjun nods and does another look over at the room before casting his gaze back at the old woman, “Could I perhaps see where CJ Beat usually sleeps?”

Ms Kwon nods, “Feel free to check, the laundry room is over there across the kitchen,” she says, pointing to the hall behind her.

“I can’t really move too much today, my arthritis is acting up.”

Renjun stands and beckons Jisung to follow. They make their way into the laundry room. There’s not much to note about it. It’s small and damp, with the smell of detergent and bleach becoming more prominent as they move deeper in. There’s one solitary light bulb that illuminates the dull grey cement of both the floor and the walls. On the left sit the washing machine and the dryer, and to the right, a metal shelf houses an assortment of detergent, fabric softeners and general cleaning supplies. The only thing out of the ordinary would be the wicker basket situated by the dryer in the far corner of the room.

Renjun looks to Jisung and gives a slight nod before approaching the cat’s bed. When they notice that a little cushion of purple laden with bottle caps of detergents sits over the basket, with a small blanket folded into a neat square in the center.

Jisung takes a good glance at it and finds nothing of note. The sheets don’t show any sign of struggle or abnormality. He’s about to exit, but a hand on his shoulder stops him in his tracks. Renjun is bent down peering to the side of the dryer, eyes intent on something on the dryer.  He points to the very bottom of the machine sees odd markings; scratches. The gashes stretch the width of the frame and come in big swipes and smaller, more concentrated scrapes. Renjun gently runs his finger over the claw marks, white powder form the displaces paint dusting the edges of his digit.

 Renjun meets the other’s gaze and brings a finger to his lips. Jisung gulps.

It’s a conventional gesture to keep mum, however, to Jisung, it means something else entirely. It’s what one might consider a euphemism. A euphemism being an indirect way of saying something severe or embarrassing. An example of a euphemism would be saying that Renjun’s father went to a farm for an extended vacation when it is very apparent that Mr Huang is neither on a farm or a vacation for that matter. As he is firstly a father before a man, and he wouldn’t go on  he vacation when could instead warn his only son of the many dangers of pastel pink.

Renjun would normally avoid this sort of unclear language, but he has learned that keeping codes play a significant role in investigating, especially if you are with an easy to fluster Park Jisung. With time the passing of time,  the two have grown to note small and big things about each other. Renjun knows that Jisung would be able to spend 20 of the 24 hours of the day watching television and would flinch a the very first hint of intimidation. Conversely, Jisung knows that Renjun is technically an orphan whose mother passed away in childbirth, and whose father is, well, on vacation. In any case, the two have created a very delicate language of codes specific to them. When Renjun puts a solitary finger on his lips, he doesn’t only mean to tell Jisung to keep this discovery a secret from Ms Kwon who is possibly hiding or has not actually seen this evidence they’ve found but also to execute an expeditious escape from the scene.

Jisung nods and they leave to meet with Ms Kwon once more.

Ms Kwon holds on to her collection of pictures and inhales deeply, “It’s been on the back of my mind, but I never wanted to think it, but what if she was saying goodbye? What if she felt like she wasn’t going to last. If you say cats are as intelligent as you say, then maybe she saw the end coming and went ahead and did the deed.”

Jisung looks lost as Ms Kwon looks at him with a look of subtle despair. We say subtle despair because nothing could be considered lurid about Ms Kwon. Her home that is painted in dated hues of green and browns, like moss and weathered cedar didn’t strike as noteworthy or memorable. The scent of her home--that of mothballs and a towel being dried in a damp room-- does not evoke any positive emotions. And her drab, tattered clothing leaves much to be desired and asks for more to forget. Everything about her home and her disposition fades into muted tones that even her intonation of utter despair feels like it’s layered under folds of indifference.

“I promise that CJ Beat will come back to you unscathed and still without a tail.”

What one can consider life returns to the heavy creases of Ms Kwon’s gaunt face as she thanks Renjun by giving him an extra stale sugar cookie fashioned into a poor imitation of a cat.

“What if CJ Beat really kicked the bucket?” Jisung says to Renjun after their house visit, “It’s hard to find a cat without a tail unless you want to personally want to do the taking off the tail yourself.”

Renjun flicks his companion on the forehead, “She’s not dead. I’m sure of it.”

“Maybe she ate her?”

Another flick.

“That’s not it either, you dimwit.”

Renjun grabs Jisung’s hand and leads them outside of the apartment complex.

“She’s not telling us something, and we need to get the bottom of that before we can start looking for this belligerent beast.”  

“Where do we start?”

“The local cat shelter. Ms Kwon seems to not have any experience with pets, especially felines. I shall print out some copies of these pictures and post them there.”

“And after that?”

“One step at a time, dimwit.”

Jisung sneers at Renjun.

\--

They visit three shelters. None know of a Siamese cat with no tail.

Jisung looks at their printed posters and pouts at Renjun, “What now, genius?”

“Look for cat parks, Ms Kwon said CJ Beat frequents there, we might find out something.”

Twenty minutes of searching and a shaky train ride after they don’t find themselves in a cat park, but a cat café named the Kool Kat.

“Jisung, this isn’t a cat park.”

Jisung shrugs, “There is currently no cat park in Seoul, but this certain cat café offers a ‘Cat Park Special.’”

Now, Jisung is a bright kid. Renjun himself knows this. Born out of ingenuity and resourcefulness Jisung has created things--creative, borderline genius things--that have allowed him to reduce the amount of effort he’d put into doing things. For example, the handy makeshift remote control he had wrought out of metal scrap and doodads his father left over from work, that had the ability to change channels from any corner of their apartment, so that he could easily navigate their abode and flip through news with relative ease, be it from the bathroom or his bedroom. However, for all his brilliance in tinkering, Jisung is not one to be called a jack of all trades. He specializes in one trade and, more often than not, falls short on the others. Maybe a more apt term from him would be a jack of some trades, dunce of everything else. Spirited he may be with the grace of invention; his one-track mind tends to wander into soggy solutions when inventions cannot mitigate his incoercible laziness.

“Whatever the case, we’re here already,” Renjun sighs, “might as well ask around.”

Jisung smiles, pleased with himself.

The Kool Katz is dark and oddly eerie, with a large black cat with a top hat sitting as its signboard. Once they’re inside, it’s empty except for the one attendant in all black, and the pen of cats huddled in the corner. Unlike other cat cafes, the décor here is sleek and uncharacteristically opulent, with black, lacquered art deco pillars and pristine marble tabletops. The sole attendant stands behind a bar with only bottles of black and white. The attendant himself, a short man with a slender figure and jet-black hair gelled into a sleek sweep, wears a fitted white dress shirt with a black pinstripe vest over it. Even the cats range from black and white, with no other color in between. That is a roundabout way of saying, only black and white. Roundabout meaning, a more convoluted means of explaining things. Roundabouts are ways to make things lengthier and seem more significant than they actually are, may it be explaining why you were not able to submit your chemistry homework through a lengthy canticle of circumstances even though you only overslept, explicating to your superiors why you have failed to secure an important confection from the clutches of a fastidious foe, or making lengthy a paragraph. However, at this moment, there was nothing particularly roundabout about the place they had stumbled into.

The cafe’s furniture, paint and felines alike have been specifically curated to be black and white. Unlike the majority of pet cafes that litter the saturated cityscape of Seoul, this particular cat cafe wants to veer away from the warm hues of browns and oranges. Renjun likes it.

The single attendant is washing a glass that doesn’t seem to have been used. When Renjun walks up to him, he notices that this attendant has black eyeliner that matches his irises and equally black lipstick. When he looks up from cleaning the already clean glass, he gives Renjun a sour expression.

“Welcome to Kool Katz Cat Café, your dark dungeon for all things forebodingly feline, I am your attendant, Ten. What Kool Katz would you want today?” he says with a tone so dull not even a whetstone could salvage it.

“Actually, I don’t have anything in—”

“Kool Katz management obliges that for you to touch any of our ferocious felines, you will need to purchase enough food or refreshments that equates to ₩20,000. If you are not able to purchase that much, I will have to request for you to leave the premises. Have a good day,” Ten the attendant replies.

“I don’t want to—”

“I’m sorry, sir, but if you’re not going to be making any sizeable purchase, you and your oddly tall friend may kindly step out.”

“I just want to ask a question on a cat.”

“I am not obliged to supply you any additional information about our catastrophic cats unless you pay the premium for our products.”

“It wasn’t about your cats.”

“I cannot help you if your problem involves cats unaffiliated with our facilities. I suggest you course these concerns to the cat café associated with the feline you are finding.”

Renjun takes out the photo of CJ Beat brandishes it in front of Ten, the attendant.

“Her name is CJ Beat, and she’s been missing for two days now. I was wondering if you’ve seen her around. She has a very distinct lack of a tail.”

Ten stops wiping the glass that he was cleaning even though it was already clean and looks at Renjun’s picture before resuming the cleaning of the already clean glass.

“There around 200,000, if not more, feral cats in the city of Seoul. If you are concerned with the search of one—” he pauses and bends down to survey the picture with laser-like focus, “Siberian female with no tail, then you are looking at an odds so unachievable that even I cannot even begin to describe it. So, if you may, please either place an order or refer to the exit that you may find on your far right.”

It is at this time that Jisung comes to the bar and places two well-worn ₩10,000 bills onto the marble counter, “We’ll have the two cat park specials, please.”

Ten the attendant takes the two bills and sniffs them, for reasons Renjun fails to understand, and places them into the cash register before procuring one sleek slip that reads ‘Kool Pass’ in glittering gold gilded Garamond.

“With your purchase, you have earned one ‘Kool Pass,’ this entitles you to one hour or 60 minutes or 3600 seconds of monitored interactions with our Kool Katz,” Ten the attendant says placing the slip on the counter. Jisung makes to grab it but is swatted away immediately by Ten, the attendant. He looks at him pointedly before gesturing him with an open palm to wait.

“It is important that you understand monitored, as in I will monitor you the entire duration of your interaction with our Kool Katz. If you, at any point break any of our Kool Roolz that I will be explaining shortly, you will be expeditiously ejected from the playpen. Understood?”

Jisung and Renjun nod.

Ten then brings out a small booklet with very, very fine text printed on it and hands it to Jisung.

“Here, since you were the one who made the purchase, you are required to sign this liability waiver,” he says, handing the paper to Jisung.

“This is to ensure that any injury or malaise that you may incur from interacting with our cats are hereby beyond our scope of responsibility.”

Renjun has had his fair share of waiver forms, but this one that Ten has brought out might just be the longest he’s ever seen. It’s about half the size of a legal document with a print that borders below 1 point.

“We ensure that all bases are covered such as allergies, rashes, ringworm, poisoning and asphyxiation.”

“Isn’t that a bit too much?” Jisung says signing really slowly.

“What is too much? What is too little? What is just enough? No one really knows,” he replies dully.

Jisung hands back the booklet and Ten the attendant gracefully accepts, bowing slightly as he receives it with both his palms opened out. Jisung makes another grab for the voucher when he is once again swatted away by Ten’s deft fingers.

“One more thing.”

Ten replaces the voucher, this time with a thin sheet of paper, with the equally indiscernible text

Ten nods back and disappears to the bottom of his bar. He then swiftly springs up bringing with him a large plaque emblazoned with golden letters spelling out ‘Kool Roolz.’ He places it on the table and directs his hand to the top of the roster of six glittering bullets.

The rules read:

  1. Any roughhousing with our reclusive residents will relegate a resolute reprimand
  2. If caught canoodling our cats with creamy confections, consider yourself conveniently convicted.
  3. Any ferocious frequencies in front of our fair felines will file a flippantly forgiving fine.
  4. Any picture with our photogenic pets will permit a pompous punishment.
  5. Stirring any silent sleeper will stipulate stifling, stringent sanctions.
  6. Nothing dainty and dandy is allowed here



“Any question?”

Renjun and Jisung both shake their head.

“Good, your orders will be served shortly,” with that Ten directs them to one of the many unoccupied tables.

“Everything he said was pointless,” Renjun sighs when Ten the attendant disappears from view.

“So I guess you got nothing on CJ Beat,” Jisung muses as he surveys the cat café once more, “this place gives me the creeps.”

Renjun shrugs, “You found it if anything I should be complaining.”

“But you won’t,” Jisung says, “You secretly like it.”

Renjun shrugs, “So what if I do. It’s everything that isn’t fluffy and pink, it's safe.”

“Whatever. How are we going to find this stupid cat?”

Renjun takes out the picture of CJ Beat and lays it on the table, “Ms Kwon didn’t know what she was doing.”

“Obviously. She just let CJ Beat out like it was nothing.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Renjun says quietly as he surveys the picture of the cat by the washing machine.

“Did you see the scratch marks on her furniture?” Jisung says, “The thing probably wanted to get out of there.”

“It didn’t,” Renjun says taking one of the five pictures he took of CJ Beat. It’s of CJ Beat as a kitten sitting on the couch they were sitting on.

“Look at the couch.”

Jisung follows and sees the ugly couch with the same drab upholstery and the same drab everything.

“The couch, it’s still ugly.”

Renjun points to the bottom of the couch, where there was tattering and tearing only to find earlier that morning, only to see none. Renjun then takes out the rest, which Jisung now notices is at different intervals in CJ Beat’s life with Ms Kwon.

“There aren’t any scratches on the couch,” Renjun says, pointing to the first one, “if we’re going by, Ms Kwon said, the cat wasn’t rambunctious in the slightest. I looked through her ream of pictures, and it’s obvious that the cat had grown up under Ms Kwon’s care. The abruptness of the departure is odd.”

“But that doesn’t explain the scratch marks on the dryer, maybe the cat never liked Ms Kwon and only found the easiest out,” Jisung says.

“Those were new,” Renjun says rubbing his index finger slightly. He remembers before when he was young, his father came home with a large gash that tore the length of his aged sedan. His father said he was very irresponsible and impacted a railing, but Renjun was always under the impression that it was caused by a very large sword that could aid in slicing a loved one’s head off. The gash was never fixed, it remained a constant reminder of the incident, and Renjun found himself noticing the indent on the side of the car that initially felt rough and sharp against the pads of his fingers to something dull, muted, rusted.

“All the scratches that I noticed around her apartment were new. Whatever event propelled CJ Beat to get out of the apartment happened recently.”

“So this nice little cat suddenly turns uber rabid that its owner, who wants us to find it if I may add, is keeping secrets from us.”

“Perplexing,” Renjun sighs.

“Not really,” comes a new voice.

The two almost jump at the sudden intrusion of Ten the attendant armed with two plates of serenely dressed caesar salad.

“Two cat park specials for the terrible twosome,” he says placing the two platters in front of the two.

“Your pedestrian predicament could be rapidly remedied with a recommendation from a particular patron with a penchant for the pet.”

“Does it include money?” Jisung says with a frown, “because I just gave you all my allowance for the week to buy this stupid salad.”

“This information is accrued,” Ten the attendant says evenly.

“I don’t know what you mean, did you just invent a word?”

Renjun flicks a crouton at his friend before gesturing for Ten the attendant to proceed, “We shall compensate in the future.”

Ten nods, “The female feline upon reaching a certain age experiences the wonderful gift of maturity, during this period she succumbs into a beastly state that causes her to become feral. It seems that the cat in question experienced something similar.”

“It is also conventional for the cat to venture out to find a suitable male to quench their newfound thirst.”

Renjun’s eyes bulge, “That means--”

“CAT PARK!” Jisung bellows standing and almost causing their plates to clatter to the floor. Thankfully, Ten the attendant, in a sudden burst of alacrity, catches the plates right before they hit the floor.

Renjun looks at Jisung with a grimace, “Jisung, there are no cat parks, remember?”

This puts a simper to Jisung’s soaring stimulation as he rests back onto his seat, his week's allowance only a mess of lettuce on the floor.

Ten the attendant lifts two unbroken plates back to the table and places them back in front of the two.

“The small one is correct, there is no cat park, but there is, coincidentally, a park named after Geraldine Caht, a benevolent benefactor of bereaved bears.”

“Not cats?”

Ten the attendant shakes his head, “She was allergic.”

“It’s not what we want, there’s in trying,” Jisung says.

Jisung says this to imply that looking at the park named after Geraldine Caht would not cause them any physical or emotional harm to him or Renjun. That whatever lies there might not assist their investigation of the missing pet cat. Sadly, that is not how the story is plotted out to be. Because only harm, emotional and physical, await our duo once they enter the Caht Park. So, when Jisung says there’s no harm in trying, he is, for all intents and purposes, wrong.

However, Renjun doesn’t know this, and neither does Jisung. So when they file out of the Kool Katz Cat Cafe, leaving Ten the attendant to tend to the mess they had left, it’s in good spirits.

\--

In another corner of Seoul in a park with a large arc that reads ‘Ca t Park’ sit two boys on a bench not surrounded by cats.

“It’s a bright sunny day, don’t you think?” Says the one on the left dressed in a hapkido kit and ballet flats.

“Quite so,” says the one on the right, taking off a singular fake lash from his left eye.

“Quite ominous,” the one on the left says, “quite unsettling.”

“Indeed it is,” says the one on the right whose left side is caked with foundation and blush, “it’s odd.”

“Like things have been set in motion,” the one on the left says taking off one ballet flat, “dark things.”

“What type of dark things? Government conspiracies? Secret societies?” asks the one on the right, taking a moistened wipe and clearing off the coloring on the left side of his face.

“No, Jaemin. Something more like stolen cats,” the one on the left says looking at the one on the right.

“Stolen cats. That is quite ominous,” the one named Jaemin says.

“I think today will be interesting Jeno,” he continues as he reaches into his pocket to take out an Altoids tin that doesn’t contain any Altoids, “blueberry gum?”

The one named Jeno shakes his head, “Not right now, maybe when the time is right.”

The one named Jaemin nods. The one named Jeno sneezes.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know where to start. However, the writing here is loosely based on my time reading A Series of Unfortunate Events a lifetime ago. It is my first 'mystery' work, so please be gentle on my heart. 
> 
> In any case, more trouble brews ahead of our dynamic duo, and a new pair enter the fray. 
> 
> Please share your thoughts on CJ Beat, the seeming innocence of Ms. Kwon, and what you think Jeno and Jaemin will contribute in the next chapter. 
> 
> You may reach me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/doyoungsupreme) or [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/doyoungsupreme).


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